


My Lady

by etherian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/M, Post DH, ignores Epilogue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherian/pseuds/etherian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romance. Vignettes recalled through journal entries, friends recollections, letters, and flashbacks. The present still manages to intervene now and again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Magic of Two Journals

**From the journal of Julia**

May 2, 1998

My birthday, of a sort. It was when I came to live in this wondrous world of trolls, ogres, centaurs, unicorns, and wizards and witches. Before then, I was nothing, no one, not even a memory.

To clarify, I could not (and still cannot) tell you who I once was even under Veritaserum and Legilimens. Believe me, Professor Snape, my friend, has tried both. It is he that calls me That Woman, Harpy Housekeeper with a Deadly Feather duster, and sister.

Lucius is the one who gave me the name Julia.

It all appears so comfy-cosy now, doesn’t it? It is, but it wasn’t. Look at the date I wrote above. My birthday, but for others it was their death. I changed the outcome of one.

**Cont. From the Journal of Lucius Malfoy**

Out of the Darkness she did come

A thing of silk yet all of tatters like a rag-woman; she smelled like the sweating Multitude and a Roman Vomitorium. I know because as I ran down a tunnel festooned with the crawling roots of the Whomping Willow, she was there and solid and I ran straight into her.

Oh yes, it was comical. I bounced back onto my arse and she fell, crumpled up like a paper accordion. I would have stepped over to continue my retreat but just as quickly as she was on that beaten dirt floor, she was behind me.

Her unfavourable aroma wafted around me, intimate in the worst of ways, as her breath tickled my neck and her voice slipped into my ear.

_“Hide!”_

Did I mention the roots of the Whomping Willow? They were everywhere. A threat to the tunnel beneath it, yet also its only sole support. They were thick, like weaving, drunken ivy, and heavily, unnaturally,  _BLACK_.

It was like being caught in the twisted nightmare of our master’s mind. And she wanted me to hide amongst those roots?

However, I was no longer the fastidious aristocrat dressed in the best of fabrics, and bathing nightly in the most expensive and subtle of scents. She smelled unwashed, but I had not been able to wash in either a bath or with the aid of a spell in weeks. A beard of indeterminacy had sprouted over my chin, and cheeks, and my eyes were red with exhaustion. Sleep was a nap caught here and there, and hopefully not in His Presence.

Without thought I pressed myself into a riot of root and dirt so fast, so hard, that the end of a root stabbed painfully into a kidney, and dirt fell into my mouth.

The woman was gone like the flit of a ghost and there was Nagini slithering down the corridor with her beloved beside her.

 _Severus!_  my mind cried out in agony.

Just as my master vanished into the shadows beyond, I tried to leave my hiding place. She was back, and now her hand covered my lips.

I saw why as moments later Potter, Weasley, and that Bushy-Haired Menace ran past to join the Final Battle.

In that moment her arm moved swiftly, like the serpent that had just crawled past, and tightened dangerously around my throat.

_“He dies,” her voice whispered with dark threat, “you die.”_

And once more she was gone in a blink.

I ran again, but this time it was towards the place I had run from. Down the tunnel towards the door into the Shrieking Shack. I could only imagine what I would find.

**From the Journal of Julia**

Lucius and the professor are brothers, protectors, and keeper of secrets.

Even so, nothing hurt Severus more than the day that Lucius became his Judas and sacrificed him to all that was Dark. He knew that Lucius was a father terrified for what might happen to his wife and son. No matter that the Daily Prophet, supported by the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, has raised Lord Malfoy to near sainthood for actions discovered through papers and pensieved accounts, Lucius still recalls the fear that drove him in those final years. His son’s life was on a thin thread, and Narcissa was foolishly courting allies beneath the nose of the Dark Lord himself. For Lucius, when freedom demanded the death of his brother, then he would pay it.

It is a burden that stains his soul as blood stains snow. Both are wizards burdened by sins that can never be washed. Severus would one day tell Lucius that his soul had been stained irrevocably black by the deaths of those that rested against it. Lucius could only nod in agreement.

So, I threatened Lucius life over Severus’ that was bleeding out upon the floor of the Shrieking Shack. I had no choice. Deep within every fibre of my existence, that day, my life faded as did the light fade from the wizard’s dark eyes.

Lucius and I both know that I would never have been able to carry out my threat had Severus truly died.

**From the Journal of Lucius Malfoy**

The blood. His blood. It colours my nightmares to this day. I faced it and I knelt in it. I took Severus into my arms to ask his forgiveness in my grief. It was she who turned me from my selfishness and reminded me of the potions that Severus was never without.

I fair ripped his robes to shreds to release the small bottles from their prison of cloth!

Dittany. Blood Replenisher. Anti-Venin. There were more but I am not a Potions Master and I could not identify them all. I was pleased to see what was there but the fact was still this: he bled. It was slow, but the flow continued and Severus appeared as dead as any man I had ever seen. And,  _despite rumours to the contrary_ , there were _not_  that many.

_I shuddered. She was behind me, her voice commanding, “Suppress the blood flow. Now.”_

I breathed in. Yes.  _Suprimere_. It was Severus that taught me… so many weeks ago, yet I could not remember when. _My wand! It was destroyed by the Dark Lord! Another failing!_  She slipped the bloodied ebony that belonged to Severus into my hand. Once I cast the first spell it was as though a deeper memory guided me. A memory of spells and potions that Severus had painstakingly repeated to me, hour after hour until I was so tired, so frustrated, that I hit him in my anger.

I had never hit Severus. He should have been angry with me, perhaps to have even struck back, but he did not.

_“Do not forget,” his tone was cold and distant the way it had been since Dumbledore’s death. “Goodnight, Lucius.”_

**From the Journal of Julia**

And then we were in Malfoy Manor!

Oh, dear snooping reader, don’t you despise a cliff-hanger that is resolved in such a maddening way? I recall when I told as much to Hermione she nearly beat me verbally to death with questions that concerned everything between Severus death in the Shrieking Shack to his life in the Manor.

What more could I say then as now? Our dear Potions Master was alive with the continued help of the potions he had brewed in anticipation of such an event, and healing spells that the two wizards had both learned as young me to counteract the displeasure of their Dark Master.

For weeks Severus slept where nothing could reach him. What he knows of what those tormented dreams were in those days then, is a tale between lovers, and it is not one known to me. Perhaps Hermione might know?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (artwork [victorian beauty](http://inktice.deviantart.com/art/victorian-beauty-149724959?q=boost:popular%20victorian%20woman&qo=81) by ~inktice on deviantART)


	2. A Shopping Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius needs to visit Diagon Alley and is accompanied by the daughter of Hermione and Severus.

There was a shop on Diagon Alley that  had what he wanted. Of course, Lucius could send one of the house elves but he did not want to take the chance that the wrong thing was brought back.

In his favourite imported tweed coat, black leather gloves, and silken scarf, he was ready to go. His Apparation was nearly silent; a leftover from less savoury days.

_rappity rap rap!_

The silver head of his cane was unforgiving upon the old wooden door. Yet, no answer came from within. Again Lucius rapped the cane sharply against the wood. Harder, each time.

_rappity **rap rap!**_

When the door  _did_  open it was so swift that the patrician was caught off guard by the vehemence with which it was yanked open. In the same moment that the door swung inwards his cane was roughly tugged from his grasp.

“Do that again and I’ll bury the fangs of this snake in your skull!”

Lucius smirked. The owner of the threat did not. Severus Snape had been wakened from a sound sleep, and from the arms of his new wife, to the annoying rat-a-tat of that damned cane. It had sounded as though it were splitting his skull open and he was not at all appreciative of his old friend’s appearance on his doorstep.

“Good morning, Severus!” greeted Lucius cheerfully. Apparantly he was unaware that he was smiling so freely upon the scowling, sleep rumpled, visage of Death.

“No it  _bloody_  well is not, Lucius. It is Sunday.  _My_  Sunday. The day of the week I allow my body to fully rest,” growled Severus.

“Rest, hmm. Is that what they’re calling it these days, Severus? Hasn’t your witch been rather indisposed, of late?” Lucius’ eyebrow quirked sharply, and he had the audacity to continue to smirk at his implication.

“It is Morning Sickness, you berk,” muttered Severus. “Hopefully you will be dealing with that soon.”

“We should only be so lucky, dear friend!” Lucius laughed. “Now come along, Severus. I am to that new stationers in Diagon Alley. Perhaps you can find something for your pretty witch and…”

A small, inquisitive face came around Severus’ side, just the height of his hip. Instinctively, he rested his hand protectively on top of the tousled, strawberry curls.

“Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Can I go with you?” the little girl gave Severus a look that begged for his permission.

“Good day, Miss Rose,” greeted Lucius with a tip of his fingers from his forehead toward the child. “If your papa is too sleepy to travel with me, then perhaps you might come along, and advise me?”

Rose stepped out in front of her papa. She was adopted, but more loved  by Severus than ever she had been by her biological father. She wore a flannel nighty of lime green with little yellow snakes on it. Her tiny feet were bare, and Severus scowled sleepily at them. No matter how much he reminded the child to dress warmly, she never did.

“May I please go, Papa?” she asked so very sweetly.

Severus felt his heart melt at the combination of the soft plea, hearing his daughter call him ‘ _papa_ ’, and her big blue eyes repeating her request.

“Dress quickly, Rose,” he gruffed his permission. Just as she was out of sight, turning the corner, he shouted, “Warmly!”

“And, will you leave me to stand upon your doorstep whilst I await my little lady, Severus?” asked Lucius too genially.

“I ought to,” growled Severus. Opening the front door wider, he ushered the older wizard inside the house at Spinner’s End (which Rose had dubbed Spider’s Walk, inexpicably, one morning). He shoved the cane at Lucius, and pointed into the living room.

Lucius stepped into the living room and found that it had changed little. It still had the masculine flair of its owner, but the door that was once hidden behind a miniature bar, was now an open arch thru-way to the vast library. The miniature bar was gone and replaced by a cabinet with a front of diamond-shaped, gold glass, and brass panes. Atop the cabinet was a heavy, crystal decanter with several measures of Severus’ favoured brandy, and two empty snifters.

“Sit,” ordered Severus as he tightened the belt of his forest green velvet dressing gown. “I shall not be pouring you any brandy this early in the morning as Rose is a quick dresser. I can say with confidence that she will not provide you time for tea.”

Lucius perched primly upon the edge and the sofa, and watched, with some silent amusement, as his younger friend slumped down upon his favourite chair; a leather upholstered wingback that had known better days, perhaps in the 70s.

Rose bounded down the stairs until she stood in front of the aristocrat who eyed her critically, if not with a small smile beneath his stern gaze. Rose was now dressed in a simple dress of blue cotton with a pinafore of yellow satin over it that was split down the middle from an Empire waist. On her legs were white stockings and her feet had red patent leather, silver buckled shoes. Lucius recognised both dress and shoes as a gift he had given the child on her 8th birthday. 

“A very lovely outfit, Miss Rose,” Lucius approved.

Severus had silently Summoned a little coat of red wool, that had a matching hat, scarf, and gloves. Pulling Rose between his knees he helped her into the outer wear and buttoned up the small coat. Her wizard father then leveled a stern glare into her open face. “Be good, Rosie. Listen to Lucius. If you’re a bad girl…”

Her gloved hands suddenly crossed protectively over her bottom, and Lucius suppressed his laughter, though his grey eyes did glitter with mirth.

Severus shot a glare at his friend. “Do not lose my daughter, Lucius!”

Lucius rose from his perch, held out his gloved hand, and smiled as the child firmly gripped his fingers. “I wouldn’t dare, my friend. Return to your lady,” he nodded his head once, “and enjoy your day, Severus.”

In a swirl of imported tweed, and red wool, the two were gone. Severus, all prepared to grump his way back to bed, was greeted instead by a pretty face framed by a halo of tousled, umber curls. Elegant, smooth hands pulled him close and sweet lips kissed away the last of his disgruntlement. Severus’ beauty led him up the stairs and he followed quiesscently until they reached the top. Once there he smacked her delightful, plush rump, and she squealed. Together, they both thundered down the hallway (in the manner neither allowed Rose to do) and jumped back into bed. Both intended to thoroughly enjoy their day.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Infinitely more tolerant of children than he had once been; he had enjoyed Draco’s childhood despite what the rumours claimed. Rose reminded him of those days and dreams he once had dreamt of Malfoy Manor harboring more children than just Draco. Narcissa had instantly put an end to such thoughts upon the confirmed conception of Draco. Her pregnancy had been a constant whinge of how the baby was destroying her body. Frankly, during those months, Narcissa had very much reminded Lucius of his own mother; a cold-hearted witch who had no room for affection for her son. Once Lucius had been born, that was the end of her duty. Narcissa had unfortunately become the same. And, she had spoiled any attempts Lucius made towards his son of an affectionate nature by reminding him of Draco’s status and his “true” duties as a father. His stuttered attempts as a father, of any sort, amongst other problems, was one of the reasons his relationship with his son was so strained, today.

Rose had pushed right through any reluctance Lucius might have had in dealing with youngsters at all. She was a bold child, but rather sneaky, too. Lucius expected that was influenced by her adoptive father, Severus.

So it was the simple shopping trip Lucius had envisioned to Diagon Alley had turned into Rose urging the older wizard into every shop whose windows caught her fancy.

There was the new chocolate shop,  _Godie’s Delectable Treats_  where she picked out a truffle for each of Potter’s twins, a Kumquat Splash for her mother, and for her father a box of Coffee Stix, the variety package. The child had also chosen something for Lucius, but she had made him turn away while she picked out a sweet. He did not tell her that he had cheated, and quite approved of the White Chocolate Peacock she had chosen. He knew the child recalled the prize of his manor, his white peacocks and silver pea-hens.

 _Eylops Owl Emporium_  fascinated her until all the owls turned their golden eyes on her in curiosity. Terrified, Rose had hidden in the folds of his tweed coat until he shuffled her outside. She was more comfortable in the new shop,  _Krups & Kneazles_. Lucius was more than pleased to send a curiously shaded kneazle kit of lavender off to Severus’ home. Muggles would only see the colour grey, but Severus would be able to enjoy the pastel for the rest of Rose’s life. He smirked.

Next was Madame Malklin’s dress shop where Rose insisted that the yellow robes Lucius wanted to buy her should be black. Rose had thrown a temper tantrum, and with the child ineffectually kicking, he had carried her securely tucked against his side so he was perfectly free of those dangerous, red shoes.

A lunch of a sandwich and fruit, had calmed the child, and they made their way to  _Le Escritoire_ , Lucius’ original destination. 

Rose was bedazzled by all the fascinating ink wells made of glass, crystal, Hippogriff claw, Bicorn Horn, and other, natural materials. Lucius managed to distract her long enough for her opinion of his purchases, and then he bought her a paintbrush made with the whiskers of an Opaleye Dragon. It was ornamented with an albino peacock feather from one of Lucius’ own peacocks.

Just before the dinner hour, Rose was delivered home to parents that both had rather languid and sated looks to their features. Lucius had smirked, and Apparated to his own home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That Woman was in the parlor he had re-decorated for her with his own magic. It was of dark panelled wood, heavy gilt and highly polished copper and brass, bookcases, and a desk known as a Captain’s Desk. Draco had copied it for her as a gift for their nuptials. She quite loved it and the desk was filled with quills, inks, ink wells, and stationary given to her by Lucius who finally understood that she preferred such things to the jewels he had been bestowing upon her.

Her own house elf, the one she had named Ashwinder, was at her elbow controlling a bright ball of light. Her head was bent over her needlepoint.

In the fire light her hair, which she now wore down (at Lucius’ request) in a cascade over her shoulders, shone like burnished copper. There were only a few silver strands in her hair. She wore a burgundy dress, one of dozens Lucius had gifted her during their courtship, and upon her feet were they handmade, kid-leather slippers of black. Looking up, she smiled, and removed the sparkling, gold-rimmed reading glasses from her nose.

Lucius realised he was holding his breath. That Woman often did that to him. Made him breathless. Just seeing her made his heart swell, his skin crave her touch, and awoke an arousal that burned within him that made him feel like a youth.

He swept to her side, kissed her cheek and was not all averse to her hands upon the lapels of his tweed coat as she brought him to his knees. In that position, the tall wizard was able to worship at the altar of his beloved. His lips met hers and for a long moment Ashwinder counted the flames in the fireplace as her master and mistress greeted each other.

Finally, sitting back on his heels, Lucius drew his purchase from an inner pocket. It had been shrunk down. In a moment he had the prettily wrapped box un-shrunk, and he presented it to her as if he were giving her the Crown Jewels.

“Lucius,” she sighed. Quickly she undid the deep purple ribbon, and tore at the whisper-thin, silver paper. A box, distinctive of _Le Escritoire_ , was revealed. Within the slim box was an empty blank book of the finest parchment and bound in tanned, butter-soft, leather magically stamped with sunken reliefs of runes and the Tree of Life. Beside it was an Always-Ink Quill of Indian Gandaberunda feather.

“A blank book, Lucius?” she asked, a smile touching her lips.

“For our story, love. As you know I began writing, but I wish for you to contribute,” he explained.

“A book,” she mused. “And who will be able to read this when it is written?”

Lucius smirked. “Why, no one, my dear Lady!” he lifted her hands in his, and brushed his lips over the sensitive fingertips. “It is for us. I doubt anyone else would wish to read it, anyway.”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. She rose from her chair, and urged him to his feet. “Come, Lucius, I’ve missed you terribly all day.” She then smiled wickedly. “Besides, I need something to write about!”

Lucius caught her about the waist and drew the woman to his side. He nuzzled her soft hair that was fragrant with Sage and Amber, and then kissed her cheek. “Ahhh, my Julia!”

The house elf vanished, as did the light, leaving only the flames in the fireplace.

_**LM & J** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this story references Master Snape’s Journal. You can follow and comment on the story on Master Snape’s Journal on fanfiction.net.


	3. That Evening

_**The Evening After the First Day of Writing:** _

Julia lay her Never-Ink quill upon the quill rest that Lucius had charmed to hover conveniently to her left. She stared down at the words she had written and those that had appeared on the pages opposite each of her entries that were reproduced from Lucius’ journal as he wrote.

A cool hand slipped against the back of her head and warm breath tickled her throat as feather light kisses drifted up her slender neck. When Lucius captured his wife’s tender lips she emitted a soft sigh. 

Kissing Julia was always like the first time. He loved her and she was his world. As he deepened the kiss, he heard his wife moan softly. His own desire stirred with the soft sounds she made. He felt powerful and alive. Was this the kind of happiness that Severus and Hermione experienced? It made Lucius understand the many changes the Potions Master had made to accommodate the new family in his life. His own marriage with Narcissa almost seemed like a lifetime ago. They had rarely been intimate (the conception of Draco being the most memorable) and Narcissa despised kissing. The few times they had managed it, Lucius knew he probably would have received more response from a cold fish. But kissing Julia,  _his_  Julia was like having his senses awakened each time. She stirred things in him he thought had died many years ago. She had saved him in much the way Hermione had saved Severus.

_And he was never going to let her go._

Lucius reluctantly broke the kiss to look into the flushed face of his beautiful wife. Her breathing was ragged and her hazel blue eyes were glowing with want. Lucius smiled enjoying the fact that it was he who did this to her. Brushing his lips against her alabaster cheek one last time, he bent down and removed the journal from her lap. He then took her hand, and with a slight, courtly bow, he encouraged her to rise from the chair and to join him on the loveseat of deep purple velvet and mahogany that matched nothing in her parlour. It was a touch of quirkiness that Lucius felt comforting; Julia’s need to furnish a room as her whim took it rather than stringently following the in-fashion palette of the season. 

As they seated themselves Lucius coaxed the woman to recline against the armrest of the sofa, and to drape her legs over his lap.

“You appear haunted, love,” he spoke softly as his fingers threaded through the waves of her long, honey brown hair.

“I dislike these memories. And,” she turned up her shadowed, hazel-blue gaze to his grey eyes with some accusation, “you will have nightmares tonight.”

“Hmh,” he replied. For a moment his gaze faded from hers and his mind fell into the years past, the misery that was the second reign of a wizard made mad by horcruxes. “Yes. Hermione did say that visiting the past would ‘dredge up old ghosts’ but that it would be healing, as well.”

Julia did not seem convinced and remained in her melancholia as she lay her head against Lucius’ chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the crown of her head.

Julia was not an introspective woman but she did often slip into that muddy area of her mysterious past. Those nightmares would often wake Lucius to Julia’s mournful cries, or screams, and there would be nothing he could do other than hold her, and soothe her til the remnants of the nightmare faded. Although Severus had warned him, Lucius had learned very quickly that encouraging Julia to “remember” the nightmares and to talk about them caused her to cramp, or become violently ill. It was better to avoid saying or questioning any of her past, and thus save her an indignant discomfort.

“Do you wish to speak to Severus before we retire?” He smiled and brushed his lips to her brow. His lips remained against her skin and she could feel the smirk that touched his lips. “I have no doubt he and Hermione are discussing the latest advances in Rune Magic and potions.”

“Thank you, but it really is too late, Lucius.” For several long moments they kissed; brief touches. A tease, a desire for more. Julia leaned back further, exposing the length of her throat to Lucius. “Tea. Let’s invite them to tea…”

As his kisses burned down the column of her throat, Julia sighed. Tea was forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lucius Malfoy in Shirt Sleeves by Ellygator on DeviantArt](http://ellygator.deviantart.com/art/Lucius-Malfoy-in-Shirtsleeves-12439535)


	4. A Nightmare

_The wind rattled the windows. One had already shattered inward from the forces of Nature that gamboled outside the manor. There had once been a ward to prevent the harsher aspects of Nature from buffeting the old manor, but it was gone, now._

_Bellatrix cackled and Lucius felt the rude and dangerous pull of an **Accio**  charm tugging him around the middle. He left the sanctity of his library before the simple spell could become deadly and rip him in half. Following the incessant pull of the  **Accio**  he was half-dragged as he tried to run with the relentless pull._

_Finally the charm was released and Lucius fell face first to the floor of some room down on the first level of the manor. He let out a pained yell as his lip was cut open by the teeth behind the lip as he struck the marble tiled floor. All the carpets had been removed by Narcissa before the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord moved in._

_“Awwww, pretty, pretty isn’t pretty anymore,” cooed Bellatrix LeStrange as she touched the blood running languidly from his mouth. She laughed at her own ridiculous jest and kicked her brother-in-law’s shoulder. “Get up!”_

_Lucius felt slim fingers encircle his right bicep and his wife’s voice hissed into his ear. “Don’t make him mad, Lucius. He has Draco.”_

_Lucius scrambled to his feet with the last of his dignity that he could muster, found a nearly clean handkerchief in his pocket, and wiped the blood from his lip._

_Death Eaters had been assembled but they were all without their masks. All of them were seated around that monstrous ironwood table that had been in the family for uncounted generations. Personally, Lucius hated it. But, that didn’t matter. At the head of the table was the Dark Lord. Beside him stood Draco and one of the dark wizard’s spidery, fish pale hands was stroking Draco’s cheek._

_Lucius wanted to move to his son, but again Narcissa’s hand gripped his bicep and held him back._

_“Don’t!” she ordered. “He’s going to punish Draco.”_

_“I should be punished, witch!” he hissed through clenched teeth at his wife. “Not my son!”_

_“Ahh, Luciussss! You have arrived. Do you wish to take your sssson’s place?” That hand brushed over Draco’s lips and Lucius could see that Draco was trying not to tremble or react the way he was feeling inside; repulsed by that touch._

_“I s-said I would, my Lord, sh-should he fail his task.” Lucius tried to speak bravely, and to meet his master’s eyes, but he could not, and shifted them slightly._

_A tiny, mocking tsk came from Voldemort. “I would dearly love to punish you, my dear Luciusss but I always keep my promisesss.”_

_To Lucius’ horror Draco’s throat blossomed red from a sharp gash that went from ear to ear. No one had seen the Dark Lord move, it had been so fast… and so silent. A tear fell from Draco’s eye before he slid into a quiet heap at Voldemort’s feet._

_Bellatrix cackled hideously and danced around her sister who simply closed her eyes and clutched at her abdomen._

_Lucius cried out, “No! My son!”_

_“Crucio!” shouted the Dark Lord with menacing pleasure in his voice._

_Lucius dropped, writhing to the floor as the pain enflamed every nerve…_

_“DRACO!!”_

“Lucius!” Julia had awakened at the shout of her step-son’s name. Without hesitation she drew Lucius into her embrace. His arms wrapped around her waist as his head dropped to her bosom. Sobs, silent, wet her cotton nightgown. “Shhh, my darling, hush. Draco is fine. You were the only one to suffer that day.”

The nightmare was an old one that Julia was unfortunately familiar with. Draco had been given the impossible task to kill Dumbledore, but he could not. Severus Snape finished the old wizard, and both men were punished. Lucius, for having a disobedient son, Severus for usurping the boy’s task and taking it upon himself.

Lucius was trembling but that came from pain that flesh remembered from the  _Cruciatus Curse_.

“Ashwinder,” Julia softly Summoned her house elf.

“What may Ashwinder be doing for Mrs. Julia?” asked the house elf whispering.

“Bring me the Memory Soother Potion.” The house elf quickly vanished. The potion she had requested was one that Severus had created for himself and Lucius. Many of those from the final war suffered pain that was only from memories and the potion soothed the mind allowing it to recognise that there was no pain and to stop reacting to it. Later, it was pointed out to the Potions Master that others, besides himself and his friend, would benefit from such a potion.

Just as quickly as Ashwinder had popped away he was back with the required potion. Julia took it, thanked the creature, then eased her husband into a partial sitting position. It was awkward since he refused to loosen his hold upon her waist. It was enough of an effort, though, since she was soon able to administer the potion.

Lucius’ tremors stopped. He lifted his head to kiss his wife. Julia indulged in the kiss, but then kissed his fluttering eyelids, and the tears that were beginning to dry on his cheeks. With a sigh he was soon returned to the lighter side of sleep. Julia kissed her beloved and then was soon asleep herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lucius Malfoy by ~dijellie on deviantART](http://dijellie.deviantart.com/art/Lucius-Malfoy-283051665)


	5. Back to the Past - Julia

I do not speak of my past before having come to the wizarding world. I do not think of it. To do so is to invite an illness of cramps that are not affected by any potion Severus ever made for me.

The nightmares, my scars, are enough of a reminder that my past was something less than pleasant.

As my arrival to this world of magic coincided with two deaths - mine and my brother’s - I will remember, fondly, my years in the home of the Potions Master.

I lived in the house at Spinner’s End as Severus ghost or his housekeeper for nearly thirteen years. Few ever saw me simply because I did not wish to be seen. Reclusivity has long suited me and I have yet to see a reason to change.

The Potions Master escaped Azkaban through testimony by Harry Potter and memories left by Albus Dumbledore. He knew I had gone everyday to Lucius and Draco’s trials but he forbade me to attend his. I did as he asked and was pleased to hear that he had begun teaching at Hogwarts again.

Although he invited me to come to the castle, I found it, the students, and the general noise and bustle, intimidating so I remained at Spinner’s End.

 _It was not at all unpleasant, or boring_.

Severus’ house may not be a huge manor but it is not without its secrets. The Potions Master unfolds and reveals its secrets as he chooses. That, and I understand that little Rose is quite good at discovering secrets; and keeping them.

I also had a regular visitor during the week: Lucius. He would come to tea, teach me the finer points of chess despite the temper I threw at the pieces once in a fit of frustration, and taught me about wizarding custom.

Lucius has called me his ‘diamond in the rough’. I have pointed out to him, on various occasions, that truly I despise diamonds. Once this ignited a long, and drawn out lecture from Lucius ( _in which a quarter of the time he was indignant on behalf of the benighted diamond_ ) and I fell asleep on his parlour lounge.

_His parlour lounge is very comfortable._

**My dear Lady, intruded Lucius’ writing from his journal, you ought to expound upon why you refer to Severus as your brother.**

**Lucius, my love, Julia wrote in reply, kindly stop interrupting my writing and allow my thoughts to flit here and there as they so wish.**

_**There was no written reply, but Lucius, who had been reading his journal as his wife’s writing duplicated itself upon the pages, closed his journal, stood, and walked over to where Julia sat near a window in his study. He chastely kissed her cheek, and then drew his index finger teasingly across the lush top of her bosom exposed by the bodice of her dress. She smiled, he smirked.** _

Brother. I do call Severus my brother and he has, on the rare occasion, called me sister. Such an association, however, was not really formally recognised until Hermione found out about me and she was, to say the least, rather upset to find that a woman had been living in Severus’ house since 1998.

Once Hermione was calmed down with a bit of tea Severus told her of our story. He then explained that we both thought, for a short time, that our lives were entwined and we could not leave each others side. I did not mention, nor did Severus, that I also shared his bed until I demanded my own a few days later.

**PARDON?! Lucius’ handwriting intruded once more across the page in a rather heated vermilion.**

We slept. This was during the week in which Severus cared for my injuries after he had found me, insensate, upon his kitchen floor. As soon as I was well enough I requested my own bed. Severus spent an entire day re-structuring, cleaning, and furnishing the attic for me. It was a bedroom but he had also conjured a sofa (or rather ‘borrowed’ it from Hogwarts), bookshelves, he had enlarged the tiny attic window, added a desk (another acquisition from Hogwarts) and an ornate room divider of black silk painted with gilded sunflowers. It was both a bedroom and a sitting room.

“So, he was a gentleman?” Lucius inquired glancing up from his journal.

Julia nodded.

“Hm. Even so, I think I shall go and call Severus out,” he mused, tapping his fingertips together. Julia frowned over her shoulder at her paramour. He shrugged his shoulders and added, “Well, it has been quite some time since we’ve had a good duel between us, my Lady.” As he rose once more from his chair she caught a sly wink from her husband. “It’s always been very good exercise, Julia. Would you care to come and watch?”

Julia smirked softly, then laughed lightly as she closed her journal and put her quill upon its rest. “I would love to watch this duel, Lucius. However, if you lose, I think you should add a copy of your memory of our first kiss to our memoirs.”

Lucius gallantly slipped his wife’s hand over his forearm in the courtly manner that brought her perfectly to his side. He then gave her a quick moue to reflect his supposed hurt pride. “I am wounded, my love, that you believe I would lose!”

It was Julia’s turn to wink, and then reply, “Then I suppose, my Lord, I shall be at your mercy if you win.”

“Hah!” barked Lucius with a wicked grin. He pulled Julia into his arms and with a nearly silent ‘pop’ they had Apparated from the manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albert Lynch, Artist


	6. A Journal Interrupted By the Present

_When first I met Julia, she was nothing more than the scraps of black, white and grey that covered her body and head. She was unwashed and unafraid._

_Just as Severus was on the verge of death, so too, had been my Julia. The rags covered a wound of fatality that I knew nothing of for the week she appeared at the Manor by Severus bed._

_After the Aurors came for me, the Aurors sent my injured friend to St. Mungo’s… Julia was seen at the joint trial of myself and my son, and although visitors were rarely allowed at Azkaban, she came._

“That is not a pensieved memory, dear heart,” Julia chided gently. She was currently seated in the bay window of her parlour embroidering one of the many pillow cases of Egyptian cotton she had recently purchased.

Lucius, a glass of Old Ogden’s in his hand - neat, was leaning against the wall near his wife so that he could look down upon her work. It fascinated him, not that she chose to do such Muggle-ish work, but that it was completely freehand and was always something from her imagination. The edge of this particular pillow case, one of a set she was making for her step-son, depicted Centaurs on a hunt.

“Are you referring to something I wrote in my journal this morning, my darling?” he asked deliberately blithely and not quite answering her question.

Julia glanced up from her sewing. “You are prevaricating, Husband.” Her hazel blue eyes glittered with restrained laughter as she pretended to be hurt. “Was our first kiss so reprehensible that you do not wish to view it?”

Lucius leaned down to kiss her temple and then to capture a curl to wrap about his index finger while he tickled her cheek with his pinky. “On the contrary, dear Lady, I am so fond of that particular memory that I am loathe to part with it just for the time it would be in the pensieve.”

Putting down her sewing Julia rose gracefully from her seat to stand against her husband. She dipped her finger into the amber liquid, stirred it languidly, and then drew the wetness of her finger across her lower lip before her tongue darted out to lick her lip and then her finger tip.

Lucius tried not to let his jaw drop at the erotically scintillating show. Instead, he drew in a shuddered gasp as his trousers became uncomfortably tight. “ _You_  are an _evil_  woman,” he ground out.

“ _You_  lost the duel to Severus, and I…  _want_ …” once more she dipped her finger delicately into the liquor, then licked it off her finger, “ _my_ … kiss.”

Lucius lost all his composure and dropped the glass that was in his hand to the floor and grasped his wife so she was captured in his arms and very tight, to the point of breathlessness for her, against his hard body. Teasing her mouth with brushes of his own, he then smirked before pressing his lips against hers to ravish her mouth to give her his taste and to take hers. 

When he pulled away to give her a moment to breathe, it was the few seconds he needed to sweep her up from the floor; one forearm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back whilst her arms had linked possessively around his neck.

They were finished with words as he Apparated them both to their bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kitty Kielland, Atelier Interior (Harriet Backer), 1883


	7. Making Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated M and here is a warning for the sensitive reader that salacious lemons lie ahead.

##  Lucius lay his wife upon their French ivory carved bed, closing the sheer crème coloured drapes that hung around its tall frame.

“Undress for your husband, my darling,” Lucius said almost breathlessly as he settled himself into the deep Edwin Napoleon chair by the bed. As he accio’d the Old Ogden’s and a new glass before settling in to watch his wife undress behind the gauzy veneer of the sheer drapes he casually draped one leg over the opposite arm of the chair.

She looked like an angel in the clouds,  _his angel._ He knew now what Severus meant when he said he did not deserve Hermione Snape, because he too felt as if he did not deserve the love of Julia Malfoy. For everything that he had done in his past, did he truly deserve to be this happy in life?

As Julia sat on her knees facing her husband, a deep blush on her cheeks he knew was not from embarrassment, he watched her begin to unlace the rich brown brocade bodice, her nimble fingers gliding over the satin ties. With each pull, more and more of her creamy cleavage was exposed, and Lucius finally accepted that he did  _indeed_ deserve this.

They  _BOTH_ did, and he would have to tell Severus so at their next tea. Considering their wives were best friends that would probably be in a day or so. He knew that Julia’s relationship with Hermione had started out very rocky, in fact; it had very nearly torn apart Severus and Hermione’s relationship. They had cancelled their engagement and she and Rose had moved out of Spinner’s End and into Grimmauld Place leaving Severus a pitiful and broken man and Lucius had never felt hollower in his life.  His best friend had finally found a woman, who would love and appreciate him, and then he had introduced Julia and all hell broke loose; but he knew he could not keep Julia a secret forever. 

_She was his wife dammit!_

He could not blame Hermione for being upset with Severus, for he had never told her about Julia. When it tumbled all out from his innocent wife’s lips over dinner that one dreadful night, it was a complete disaster, and even Lucius knew, it had come out completely wrong. The way Julia described it almost made it seem like Severus was her lover, but all of them knew that was incorrect.

Julia could be passionate at times, and her mind was always running three steps ahead. She talked with her emotions, much like her needlework, freehand, and for those who did not understand her; it was easy to misinterpret her true meaning.

Of course he also blamed Severus for never having told Hermione anything about Julia from the beginning, but then again, he also understood why. Severus always had a very difficult time with relationships due to his status as a spy as well as the poisonous love he harboured for that Evans woman Lucius had always detested. He didn’t hate her for being Muggle born, he hated her for the way she had shunned his best friend at his most needed hour.  He had warned Severus several times to stay away from Lily Evans, and that she was not good for him, but he never listened.  Now that Severus was finally able to close that part of his life, thanks in part to both Harry and Hermione, his friend had finally found love again, only to have it ripped away due to a complete misunderstanding over his own wife. He  _KNEW_ Severus should have explained to Hermione about Julia in the beginning, but then again, how could one explain about her, when Lucius himself was still trying to?

At least it had all worked out in the end, and now their wives were quite close, sometimes even plotting together against their husbands.

_What had they created?_

“Lucius?”

Lucius’ thoughts immediately came back into focus. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts; he had completely missed his beautiful wife’s removal of her vestments, and she now knelt completely naked on the bed.

She parted the sheer drapes, her hazel blue eyes, meeting his light grey.

“My love, just remove your clothing, and come to me. Let us talk. This will not sit right, with so much on your mind.”

Lucius stood, and began to remove his clothing as Julia settled snugly under their rich eiderdowns. She watched her husband undress and a feeling of contentment stole over her heart.  This was the only man for her, and it was something she never doubted, just knew. 

He was her wildflower and she was his. It was a deeply personal memory, and something she was not even sure she would  be able to write down, but it was there nonetheless. She loved him like no other.

Lucius slipped between the silken sheets and pulled his wife to him, almost groaning at the heat their bodies created.

“Husband,” she said as he dipped his pale head to kiss the delicate framework of her shoulder blades.  She licked her lips with a sigh, but knew she did not want to take it further until this was resolved. She tilted his chin up to search his troubled eyes. “Tell me what is amiss, my love?”

Lucius touched his forehead to hers, knowing her words were not unexpected. She knew and felt things around her, and as strange as it was, he had learnt to accept it. (His best friend was a Legilimens after all.  It did not get stranger than that in all honestly.)

Lucius kissed her brow before lying back on his plump pillow. “I am sorry, my dear, I suppose I am just dredging up old memories from the past. Writing in these journals does tend to do that.  For some reason, I was remembering Hermione and Severus’ breakup shortly after their engagement. What a mess that was if you recall! It took the two of us as well as Potter and even Draco to make them see reason. For a while there Julia, I thought Severus was going to lose the only woman who truly ever loved him, and if that happened,” Lucius broke off, as a graceful tear slid down his cheek.

Julia curled herself around her husband, and laid her head on his chest. She felt his fingers immediately tangle into her soft locks as his other hand traced the tattoo on her back.  It was common place between the two of them now; she didn’t mind it so much anymore. She had learnt to lower her defences regarding the destructive nature of the formulae seared into her back, but only in front of her husband, and also Severus Snape.

“Lucius, eventually Hermione understood, and they did get married if you recall. You stood for him as witness my love.  Their love is as unbreakable as ours is,” she said kissing the tip of his nose. “Let us not forget however how she hid Rose from Severus for seven years. That is also something huge that warranted a great deal of forgiveness and understanding on Severus’ part. He gave it to her, and in the end, she did the same for him.  It is over now, and I believe that we have more pleasant things to  _not_ discuss,” she trailed off hoping he would understand her meaning.

_He did._

He reversed their positions and lowered his body on top of hers, savouring the warmth that melted into his own. Narcissa had always been like a cold fish to him, but Julia his wildflower, was nodding her head in the warmth of the sun.

_He was her sun._

He nibbled and tasted every inch of her body as she moaned and arched into him, offering herself like a goddess on a platter.

_His goddess._

 

He dropped his pale head between her legs and tasted her arousal, drinking it in like sweet ambrosia on his tongue. He accio’d his glass of Firewhiskey and poured the amber liquid in a thin steam across her slit, before using his tongue to lap up every ounce of the smoky liquid that had mixed with the muskiness of her juices. He groaned when he felt her trembling fingers clutch his hair and push him for more. He drove his tongue deep into her folds over and over, coming up only to lavish the hardened nub of her clitoris, which he covered with his lips and sucked hard.

Julia’s cry of completion was like a song in Lucius’ heart. He’d had his fair share of pleasantries in bed, but never a woman who wanted him so completely. It still took his breath away when she reached orgasm and cried his name like it was a prayer on her lips.

“Lucius, please, my heart, I want you to unite our bodies. Come to me, my love,” Julia panted. Her eyes were dilated and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. Her arms were open wide and Lucius, not wasting another second, pulled himself up and fell into them in a graceful heap while entering her fully with one thrust of his angular hips.  Their strangled cries of bliss at being sensuously joined were quickly turned into moans as Lucius covered his wife’s mouth with his own, and plundered it with his tongue allowing her to taste her own sweet musk on his lips.

Julia groaned loudly as she kissed her husband back, her lust growing by the second. No other man had ever made her feel like this, and she doubted highly that there was another living being that could. She did not believe in soul mates, but with Lucius, she made that one exception.

_Though she would never tell him or anyone else that._

Bucking hard, she thrust herself as hard as she could against her husband. If she could impale herself like a thornbird and sing her last cries to the world with only Lucius’ sweet body filling hers, she would have in a heartbeat.

Turning her over, he whispered silkily into her ear, “You want more my love? As do I. Let me take you to places yet uncharted.”

Julia felt herself being drawn to her hands and knees and suddenly he was filling her from behind. Julia’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as he plunged deeply and hit that sweet spot that made her forget everything else.  She didn’t even realise it was her that screamed.

Lucius held his wife from behind, his face burrowing into her beautiful brown tresses as one hand kneaded her breast while the other teased her swollen clitoris mercilessly.

He pounded into her with wild abandon and she met her lover and husband thrust for thrust, the timeless language of lovers the only sound in the room, until he felt her tighten and convulse around his member, which sent him spiralling over the edge to his own completion.

They lay tangled in the aftermath, their breathing hoarse and chaotic, but  _oh so_  beautiful. Once they could breathe properly, she rolled out from under him, and snuggled against his chest. He wrapped his arms possessively around her and spooned his body around hers, wanting to savour every delicious moment. The times he and Narcissa had intercourse left much to be desired, especially afterwards, when she would usually untangle herself and leave to take a bath in order to remove any evidence that they had copulated (and how often had she used such impersonal, clinical words to describe what they did!).

If Draco had not been born, his own memory would have doubted if they had intercourse at all.

Such actions never bolstered Lucius’ confidence in himself, no matter how arrogant he may appear before others. Only Julia knew that he was somewhat shy in matters of the heart and bedroom.

“That was wonderful my love,” she breathily whispered as she grazed her hand over his nipples earning her a soft sigh from the man she loved.

“As you were, my darling wildflower.” He nuzzled the silken curls of hair just above her ear. “I love you… so very much, Julia. My life would be incomplete without you.”

It was rare for Lucius to ever say anything to that extent. He knew Julia already knew this, but for some reason, he just felt the need to vocalise it today. Perhaps it was their earlier discussion about how Severus and Hermione had almost broken up, that impelled him to say it aloud.

Julia sat up slightly, and cupped her husband’s face between her slender hands. Locking her hazel blue with his light grey she said only one thing.

“ _I exist for_ _ **you**_ _and you for_ _ **me**_ _. You were wrong about Severus not being able to survive without me. It was you Lucius, it was always you.”_

He allowed himself to be drawn into another kiss, as her words rang like a gentle chime in the back of his mind.

_It was you Lucius, it was always you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lucius Lounging by Hillary-CW at DeviantArt](http://hillary-cw.deviantart.com/art/lucius-lounging-179426218)


	8. A Poem for Julia

**A poem that Julia found beneath her eucalyptus scented pillow:**

My Lady is a goddess  
In my eyes  
     My heart  
         My very soul  
  
Clothe her in jewels  
     Silken gold  
Shower her with  
     Silver and gold  
Bathe her in seductive perfumes  
  
Yet, in my bed  
She is love  
     beauty  
         passion  
Belonging only to  
  
 _Me_  
  
My beloved  
     My darling  
         My Lady

  
_Julia_


	9. Present - Readying for Dinner

“Julia, he doesn’t want to come here,” Lucius almost whined and cringed at the nasal tone to his voice.

“Draco won’t come here because you don’t invite him, Lucius,” she chided and kissed the side of his bare neck before he put the silk cravat around it and began tying it. Julia was combing her husband’s below shoulder-length white blonde hair; sometimes she rewarded herself by carding her fingers through that fall of silk.

“Malfoy Manor is his home,” Lucius replied stubbornly. “I should not have to invite my son to his own home!”

“Swallow’s Nest is Draco’s home,” she said as she tugged lightly upon the ponytail she had gathered at the nape of her husband’s neck. Deftly she wrapped a maroon leather cord around the hair. The colour of the leather matched the brocade vest he already had on.

The wizard’s sneer had the ghost of a pout to it as he finished the argument. “He could live here. The entire west wing could be his.”

Julia did not reply but she handed her husband the comb she had used on his hair. She then tapped his shoulder; a nudge for him to move. Lucius did move and his wife sat at the vanity where he had just been.

Argument forgotten, Lucius smiled at the reflection of himself and Julia in the mirror as he removed the pins that held the soft bun upon her head. Her long hair spilled in a a wave of amber, honey, and a few strands of white to her waist. Like the sensuous and generous curves of her body, Julia’s hair was a wealth of satiny waves. At night he would brush the strands to a burnished electricity. In the morning he would comb her hair. Sometimes he would plait sections and adorn those plaits with tiny white flowers that he conjured. He enjoyed his wife’s hair down, and free from fetters. It charmed him that she would still blush so demurely when he escorted her in public. Somewhere in her foggy past she had been taught to bind her hair so that she could not show its glory, to be ashamed of it and her entire body.

For Julia it was a constant marvel to know that her husband revelled so shamelessly in the possession of her body. She knew she was not svelt – thin, willowy, etcetera – by Muggle or wizarding standards. She had the curves of a woman in her middle years, as proven by her Healer’s spells. Those spells could determine she was 42 years of age, had never given birth, and that her body had been through stresses that had shot strands of silver through her dark blonde hair, and had scarred her body. Despite these outward appearances Lucius never could refrain from touching his wife, caressing her hand or cheek in public and in private worshipping his beloved Lady with every particle of his being.

As Lucius languidly drew the comb through his wife’s tresses his knuckles caressed her cheek, his free hand drifted over the delicate skin of her throat, and not a few times did he simply lean forward to kiss each of her cheeks, and lastly to nibble teasingly upon the lobe of one ear.

Their gentle intimacy was interrupted by a snaggle-toothed house elf in a cream tea-cosy popping into the bedroom. Lucius glanced at the elf. “This had better be important, Dither,” he muttered with a veiled warning.

Dither gave no indication that he was the least bit wary of his master. He sniffed, and announced, “Is Master Draco waiting in Master’s parlour, Master Lucius, Sir.” With that the house elf popped away.

Julia rose from the vanity and smoothed a pleat in her lavender tea gown. She moved to kiss Lucius’ cheek but he caught her around the waist and pulled her close against himself. He then touched his lips to hers and teasingly began to touch his tongue against her lower lip as he slid his hand possessively down her spine. She moaned softly allowing his tongue entrance and for a moment, as time stopped all around them, they lovingly promised each other more.

When it seemed that both would need to take a breath they reluctantly parted. Lucius smirked at his wife’s flushed cheeks, the dark glitter of arousal in her hazel blue eyes. He caught her shoulders just as she swayed slightly and gave him an impassioned smile before steadying herself with her palm pressed against his chest.

Chastely Lucius kissed her cheek. “This evening, my Lady,” he purred.

Julia blushed and returned the chaste kiss. “Let’s not keep Draco waiting any longer.”


	10. Draco's Nerves

“I can do this, I can do this, I can do this…”

The mutter came from the formal receiving room as Draco, a young man just turned thirty-two in June. He was still a slim young man and he did not have the soft paunch that began in nearly all men in their thirties because he liked his exercise. He often went for long walks, sometimes Apparating to a more benign climate if the weather was too cold. He kept himself in “duelling form” and would often practice with his godfather Severus, and sometimes Luna Potter. Not Harry because their practice sessions had a bad habit of devolving into the bratty corridor hexing fights they would have as children at Hogwarts. Luna had grown increasingly impatient with both men and all of the hexes she would have to reverse, and the broken bones and bruises to heal. Luna was a surprising opponent to Draco, and one who tended to cheat with localised Apparating and jumping up onto whatever object might be nearby. Once when Harry was observing, Draco had paused and snarled, “She’s like trying to catch a bloody snitch, Scar Head!” Harry had only laughed, and then Draco had grinned, resuming the duel.

His white-blonde hair had grown to his shoulders but he hated having to keep it tied up for when he worked with Ollivander, his mentor. It curled upward at the ends and fell like heavy silk.

His features were still sharply delineated, inherited from his mother, but the sharp edges had been smoothed by genes from his father. He was a striking young man every bit of handsome expected of his French heritage, but it was a strength of beauty that he carried without any of the haughtiness both his parents had taught him when he was younger.

Draco’s gait was long-legged, sure, and relaxed. On the surface. At any moment he could easily drop into a defensive position; a grace he knew he had not had as a conflicted soldier in Voldemort’s Army.

The young wizard had dressed simply, but in his best. He no longer owned the extensive wardrobe he knew his father still persisted in. He wore slim-cut Muggle jeans, a shirt of white cotton with mutton-chop sleeves, a simple vest of jewel green satin, and his favourite pair of dragon hide boots.

“Draco!”

He spun and saw Julia entering the receiving room. He let out a breath of relief as she smiled upon him. He met her halfway and they fell into an easy embrace.

“Aunt Julia,” Draco sighed as he squeezed her tightly for a moment. He closed his eyes and breathed in the perfume of her hair. He would never grow tired of her hugs, always given so freely. After a moment he pulled back and straightened himself up. “Where is father?”

Julia turned to stand beside Draco and slipped her arm through his to escort him from the cold room and into her parlour. “Your father is in the kitchen.”

Draco stopped dead in his tracks. “Wait. Kitchen?” Julia nodded, a smirk sparkling in her eyes. “He doesn’t know where the kitchen is. I don’t know where the kitchen is!”

Julia chuckled and drew Draco into the parlour where she directed him to seat himself. “He  _didn’t_ know where it was and to be quite frank the elves had decided not to tell him. It took us both a few hours to find where it was in the west wing, towards the back on the first floor. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Really? And my father knows where it is now and… and he’s there?” Draco quite forgot his news to tell of this evening in the face of this revelation.

“Yes, he is. Severus gave him a recipe for poppy-seed dinner rolls and he wanted to try them tonight. Just for you.”

Draco’s jaw just dropped, and froze in place. His father was cooking. And his Uncle Severus had given his father a… a… recipe???

Julia brought a small measure of liquor over to her stepson. “After Severus set him the nearly impossible task of cooking breakfast for us, himself, Hermione and Rose, Lucius has quite fallen in love with cooking. And, he’s rather good.” She smiled and then seated herself. “I still burn water with the best of them.”

Draco smiled thinly and took an unwary gulp of his brandy. His eyes widened at its warm sting and then he let out a spluttered cough. “Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry, Aunt Julia, my mother never gave me brandy!”

Julia sniffed delicately. “And so, I am not your mother.”

Draco nodded, glanced down at the remains of his drink, and smirked at it. He then took a more refined sip of the liquor.

“Draco,” began Julia warily. “Are you going to speak to your father this evening?”

“About er… um… yeah?” He slumped in his chair and wiped imaginary perspiration off of the palm of one hand onto the thigh of his trousers.

“You know I’ll not say a word to him, my dear, but keeping this from him is killing you and it is hurting him that he believes you are avoiding him.”

“But I’m not!” blurted Draco worriedly.

“I know that you are not, Draco,” she spoke calmly and with precise patience. “But you will not move into the Manor…”

“Well, that’s impossible!”

“Please, do not interrupt me.” Her voice had a sudden steel edge to it that Draco seldom heard. He straightened and took a fortifying sip of his brandy. Her voice became softer, cooler, “Lucius is unaware of your circumstances nor anything that you have been through. He knows the name of your home but not where it is because you’ve never invited him. And, twelve years is far too long to keep a secret. Tell me, what is he supposed to think?”

Draco fidgeted and crossed and un-crossed his legs at the ankles. “But what if he hates me like mother does?”

Julia caught Draco’s grey eyes which were a shade lighter than his father’s. There was ever the slightest tinge of blue to them which glinted when he was worried. “Narcissa is a shallow woman who was never a proper mother to you. She used you every single time it was possible to do so, and the worst she ever did was in the hopes of killing my brother.” She stood, walked over to him, and touched his shoulder. “Your father loves you, unconditionally, Draco. You must expect him to be upset but he will not disown you over this. Not when all he has ever wished for you was to be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Draco by iLoverly on DeviantArt](http://iloverly.deviantart.com/art/Draconis-Lucius-Malfoy-41611221)


	11. Remembering Draco

My relationship with Draco was at its easiest when he was a baby and then a toddler. I found myself freer to give him the affection he deserved, the love his mother denied him. I still remember cringing as Narcissa and I were seated at breakfast when two year old Draco ran into the dining room with exuberance. Cherry jam glistened on one cheek and no doubt his hands were sticky from his breakfast as well.

Draco, you see, had been relegated to eating in the kitchen, out of Narcissa’s sight, the moment he could sit upright by himself. She despised the mess he often made. Truthfully, I sometimes could not help but smile or chuckle at the enthusiasm he brought to mealtimes. Narcissa was not happy with me, but I never expected what she did that morning.

Draco, finished with his breakfast, and missing his parents, had run ahead of his nanny and his house elf to the dining room. With a giggle he threw himself at Narcissa and tried to hug her as he shouted, “Mumma!”

Narcissa reacted with unexpected speed and slapped Draco across his face, then threw him from her. He fell backwards and began to wail but Narcissa had her wand out as she towered over him and hissed, “Do not make that puling sound, Draco. Malfoys do not cry unless they desire a reason to cry.”

I sat frozen until I felt the threat of her magic towards my son. Leaping from the breakfast table I scooped my child from the floor and held him comfortingly, and protectively.

“He is a child, Narcissa!” I snarled at her. “Threaten him again with what you did, or anything else, and I shall visit the same upon you ten-fold.”

With narrowed eyes she backed away, sheathed her wand, and re-seated herself. She knew very well that my threats were not threats but promises.

“Keep him away from me, Lucius,” she ordered beneath her breath. “I do not want to see him until his letter from Hogwarts arrives.”

“Then you shall see very little of me, Madame,” I sneered my disgust and removed myself and my son from her sight.

I tried my best by my son as a Pureblood but as he grew older but my failure was evident in his superior and hateful attitude. Narcissa was pleased, as was my father, Abraxas. I was weak, denying neither of their instructions regarding my behaviour towards my son. To refuse either wife or father meant painful hexes, even the Unforgivables at the hand of my father; in turn as I was punished, Abraxas reminded me that my failures would be visited upon Draco. I had no choice but to fold to my father’s edicts.

After Abraxas died unexpectedly from a vicious bout of the Dragon Pox, I had hope that I would be able to relax but my actions towards my son were watched over by not just Narcissa, but my dark master, Lord Voldemort.

I had never learned Occlumency and I was poor at hiding my true self. Thus it was that many times as my son grew he saw and heard only the worst of me.

The war brought about changes unexpected. My actions were less than desired in the eyes of our returned Dark Lord and the destruction of my reputation and the Malfoy name was done in the aborted Battle of the Ministry. I welcomed the sentence of Azkaban but my sojourn had been more than what I expected — the abuse was painful and humiliating. For the first time Narcissa, I thought, showed some inkling of being a mother. I have felt, since then, that I should have suspected her motives but truly I had thought she meant only to care for our son. An Unbreakable Vow. One that she and Bella had both decided Severus would wind up breaking, and dying. None of us expected what had happened instead.

**That chapter is done and with the help of my ghostly lover, my wife, Severus lived to finally enjoy those comforts all men dream of.**

Julia has always been the one. It was she who turned me back from a coward’s path to rescue my oldest friend from a certain death. It was she that took over his care when Narcissa sent him, staggering, from the Manor upon mine and Draco’s arrests. It was my dear Lady who admitted her lack of knowledge and contacted the one person who would do all in his power to make sure Severus was well, and safe. It was Julia who attended every session of our joint trial and who also made Azkaban bearable as we awaited the verdict.

We, my son and I, were given a cell together in Azkaban (not a Ministry holding cell as had been reported by the Daily Prophet). It was fortunate that it was thought we ‘deserved to be with each other’.

We argued. Spiteful and hurtful things were said, and I despaired of ever knowing my son again until one night I awoke to the sound of Draco’s tears.

He was weeping in his sleep of the terror of the night on the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. The night he was ordered to kill the Headmaster.

Draco could not escape his nightmare and I could not stop myself from gathering my child into my arms to soothe him. When Draco did finally wake he remained within the comfort of my arms.

We talked and he allowed himself to be held often afterwards in that dreary cell.

**And, my Julia would visit us. Never Narcissa.**

Julia, who had yet to have a name beyond “Lady” or “Madame” would be there as a silent presence at our trial, and then she would visit the spit of an island that Azkaban resided on to visit us. Because of her we had blankets to keep us warm, decent clothing for our appearances in court, and plain food that was still markedly better than the swill given to prisoners in the old prison.

Julia and I spoke very little as Draco was the more gregarious and needy. He asked about his classmates, the Final Battle, and often whispered about Severus. 

During her visits, after Draco’s habitual interrogation, Julia would watch me. Since we dared not hoard food that was brought to us, she would quietly sit upon one of our dingy and suspect cot mattresses while we ate as quickly as possible.

One evening after I had indulged in my fill of a sandwich of bacon and ham and avocado, I moved to sit next to her and began a conversation.

“My friend,” I asked quietly. “How does he fare?”

She nodded. “He is stronger each day.” Shyly her eyes, such a wisping hazel touched by blue, met mine.

I often wonder when my heart began to beat for My Lady. I like to think it was then. I could sense the strength from her, the loyalty, but it was the moment of demure boldness that ensnared me. And there was so little I knew about her!

“At St. Mungo’s,” I stated ever so softly. By then Julia had informed us that Aurors had discovered Severus on the day of our arrest and had taken him to St. Mungo’s for treatment.

“H-harry…” her eyes darted about for anyone who might be listening and then she leaned in close enough to rest against my shoulder. “He sits with your friend night and day. He has not left your friend’s side.” Her eyelashes fluttered in worry and I could not help but breathe in the scent of wild lavender from her shampoo. “Harry worries about when he wakes.” She then leaned so close that as she whispered her warm breath tickled my ear. “The Aurors hover daily waiting to arrest him.”

Severus would have been left alone at St. Mungo’s but Julia had contacted the Boy-Who-Lived and asked for his help for my friend. It was odd to hear of the boy’s singular devotion when I knew teacher and student had been antagonistic to each other.

“Will he speak for my friend?” I asked worriedly. Knowing how my own trial wavered from guilt to mis-guided innocence by the day, I could only imagine that Severus’ trial would be much worse.

Julia had nodded her assurance. “His friend, Hermione Granger, is even now gathering evidence for his exoneration. She is a tireless woman.”

That I knew, and smirked. “And, the Weasley boy who makes their third? You have said nothing of him, Madame.”

“He refuses to have anything to do with Severus and has vanished to join some professional Quidditch team. Hermione is most distressed over his actions, but she will not stop.”

It was there that our conversation dropped. Minutes later I broke the silence with the question in regards to something that had bothered me about her visits.  “I’ve never heard of a visitor here,” I began, knowing there were other mysteries ahead to solve later, but it was this one that occupied me at the moment. Visitors were not allowed unless the Minister allowed it. To my knowledge the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had made the only concession to me that he dared: a joint trial with my son.

“They never see me,” she replied and this time her gaze held mine; daring me to refute her.

“Narcissa never saw you, nor did the house elves, yet I always saw you at Se… my friend’s side,” I mused. There were times when I still wondered if she might truly be a ghost.

“I am not worth their attention, Mr. Malfoy.” I watched with interest, and a jolt from regions I long thought dead around my wife, as her small fingers slipped over mine as my hand rested on my knee. I risked a glance down at our fingers then looked up into her eyes now reminiscent of an old storm. She was carefully watching me, anticipating that I might take my hand away.

**I did not desire to do so.**

My Lady’s hand was cool, but pleasantly so. There was warmth there lying quiescent until my fingers gently squeezed hers together.

**I did imagine a spark of interest! I was sure of it then as I am now.**

There was a week of our trial left, and still she came. The blankets were always new and clean, the food solid and good, and now, after speaking to Draco, she would sit beside me and hold and caress my hand until the visiting hour drew to an end. It was during those weeks that I observed that no guard brought her to our cell, and no one escorted her away.

**Again, was she ghost, or more than human? She is a diplomat, though.**

My Lady, my Julia, often has smoothed over the little tensions between my son and I. I was annoyed when he desired an apprenticeship with Ollivander as I had long imagined him a Lord of the Manor.

This night I chose to reveal to my son that not only had I discovered the kitchen but that I knew how to use it. I cooked white potatoes with elf-churned butter and gravy, a fine roast with au jus and dumplings, fresh mixed vegetables (in truth, not only did I not know if my son had a favourite vegetable, I was not sure he ate them at all!) and poppy-seed dinner rolls.

I shall admit now that most of the skills in the kitchen have come at Severus’ instruction. He does keep the recipes for his bread-making close to his heart, but for this evening he had parted with one treasure, that of the dinner rolls. I and Julia are both inordinately fond of those rolls and knew that we had to share them with Draco.

The food did go well and I suffered a spate of good natured teasing from my son over my new found cooking skills.

It was after dinner, as we all retired to my parlour on the other side of the library; Julia’s parlour is to the left facing the morning and afternoon sun, while we enjoyed an after dinner Cognac, that I wished I had not eaten a thing!

Draco revealed a secret that he had been keeping for nearly twelve years! That in itself was enough to anger me. That I had not known of his duplicity.

**There was worse to come.**

He would not ever marry a woman as he had taken as consort and constant companion, a man. In truth, it was not his gender preference I had issue with it was the fact that he was my only son and it appeared he would never father a child of his own to carry on the Malfoy name. Oh, he had adopted his lover’s son, but as I could not help but point out, this child was not of our blood.

“Blood!” shouted Draco throwing his brandy glass angrily to the floor. “Must it always be about blood, father?! I’m happy! I’m in love and I have a family!! That’s what matters… not your need for some damned heir!”

I am certain that if Julia had not literally pushed my from the parlour that I would have severed my son irrevocably from my life. She intervened and so now I sit in my quiet study, writing this account. Draco has been two hours gone and still I wonder if even I have a son anymore.

_Julia found her husband weeping in silence over the pages of his journal. Much of the ink had been smudged or drowned by those tears. She said nothing but kissed his forehead, encouraged him to stand, and they both walked slowly to bed where they continued to hold each other._

_In the morning Julia would reveal to her husband that Draco, once his temper had cooled, had invited them both to Swallow’s Nest – where more secrets would be revealed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [All Grown Up by SamiraKate on DeviantArt](http://samirakate.deviantart.com/art/All-grown-up-2-220921635)


End file.
